Part 32 (1/2)
Cain stared down at the spreadsheet. He had to be sure of his answer. Be sure of how to leverage it effectively between Keith and Andrew. How to maybe make this the opportunity to free himself. ”It's a two year old engagement. There are a lot of moving parts and some of them out of my division. I'll need...time.”
Keith nodded, his eyes wild with excitement. ”Okay, take the time. I want this to be your number one priority.” He walked over and extended his hand. ”I think, together, you and I can take this company into the future. It's a risk, but I get the feeling you want to be your own man. Am I wrong?”
Cain answered, ”No, you're dead on.”
Bunco! Bunco!
It was the third dress she had changed into. She couldn't decide on anything at this point, particularly the attire of the snotty women she would forcibly mingle with tonight. From their attire at the club, they appeared preppy and tailored. She expected it to be more of the same. She considered pants and a log sleeve s.h.i.+rt. But none of that had true appeal. So she settled on the soft pink Tahari dress with the squared bodice and a daffodil yellow thin sweater to wear with it. It was a warm night, but she could get away with it.
Stepping back, she looked herself over in the mirror. There wasn't much more she could do for the evening. Besides, she had to question her motives again. Did she really care what Maryanne and her snotty friends thought? Or was she more interested in seeing Cain again this evening?
She refused to answer herself. Instead she busied herself with slipping on her sandals, and then headed for the door. Careful on her tender foot, she stopped mid-step at the opening of the door and the arrival of her husband. He paused, eyes lifting to hers, travelling over her and taking in every detail of her appearance.
”You look beautiful,” he said with that wolfish grin she knew too well.
Simone exhaled. She descended the remaining steps carefully. She should have chosen her flats. The pained foot wasn't a slave to fas.h.i.+on. It appeared that Keith noticed too. ”Maybe you should stay in. I can cook for us. We can talk. d.a.m.n it, babe, been thinking about you all day.”
She looked away and over to the ceramic dish where the extra set of keys lay. ”Excuse me,” She maneuvered around him. Keith, of course being Keith, stepped in her way.
”You smell nice. I want to make up.”
Simone stepped out of his reach, careful to not be touched. She swiped at the locks of hair over her left eye, tucking them behind her ear. ”Not sure how long this card game or whatever it is will last. Don't wait up.”
”Wait,” he said moving when she did to block her pa.s.s.
”Keith? Would you move?”
”One more thing, then I'll leave you alone. I've called the doctor mother recommended.”
Simone closed her eyes shaking her head. ”Not for you, for me. This time I'll go. How's that? See? I'm willing to change. I'll meet with the therapist, get it all out and, then maybe we can go together.”
”d.a.m.n it!”
”Simone?”
”Back off! Just leave me the h.e.l.l alone!” she said, pus.h.i.+ng past him and tossing the door shut behind her. She felt like s.n.a.t.c.hing her hair out from the roots. He needed to take his a.s.s to therapy, but she wouldn't. She was done. Marching away, she looked back twice, half expecting to see him following. But of course he wouldn't dare make a scene. She trudged through the gra.s.s, her heels sinking in the soil and causing her to put more pressure on her already swollen foot. Halfway to the Gatlin's house, she nearly reconsidered.
No matter. Once she arrived on their doorstep, she knew an evening here would be less of a bore than the one at home dodging her husband's advances. She could hear laughter. She fixed herself and stomped her foot so the clumps of dirt could fall away from the soles of her shoe.
The door flung open just as she pressed the buzzer.
”Simone, welcome! Everyone, Simone is here!” Maryanne said.
Simone's eyes narrowed on the host. Maryanne wore jeans and a casual polo cotton top. Simone crossed her arms shyly over her front, conscious of her attire once more. Maryanne beamed a bright smile. ”Come in! Tish, Beth, Suanne, ladies, our guest of honor is here.”
Maryanne took her hand. Simone was forced to follow out of the vestibule, in through the foyer, and then in to a living room that was larger than her own. The furniture had been moved. There were three card tables set out. Two of them were filled, the third half way. The pale faces of all in attendance focused on her. Maryanne stepped back as if Simone were her pet project. ”Isn't she lovely? I told you all she was lovely.”
”h.e.l.lo, dear,” Bonnie said. She stepped in with jeans and a powder blue polo short sleeve s.h.i.+rt like her daughter. She sipped at her Sangria followed by two others. Simone smiled and nodded.
”h.e.l.lo.”
”Okay! Let me make the introductions.”
”Simone, this is Tish.” She pointed to a redhead, with green eyes and face full of freckles. A beautiful young woman.
”Hi.” Tish nodded.
”Susanne.” She pointed to a dark haired, darker complexioned woman with bright blue eyes casually dressed like the others.
”h.e.l.lo.”
”Beth.” Maryanne introduced a pet.i.te blonde that could pa.s.s for a relative.
”Ciao, bella.”
Maryanne chuckled. ”Beth has a new gardener, she's been practicing her Italian.”
”That's not all she's been practicing,” A pretty brunette snorted. Soft giggles erupted amongst the women. Beth blushed.
”Hi, I'm Joan.”
”h.e.l.lo,” Simone said as the others were introduced. Her head spun with the names. The only one she seemed to remember was Joan. She didn't quite look the part of a cutout Stepford wife as the other ladies. Simone was led to the table where Joan and Bonnie sat.
”Sangria, darling? What will you have? White or Red?” Bonnie asked.
”White?”
”Good choice,” Joan winked. ”The red tastes like s.h.i.+t.”
”Now, Joan, manners,” Bonnie admonished.
Simone smiled, ”I'll get it,” Maryanne offered, and then rose to fix herself a drink. Simone could barely hear her thoughts over the laughter at the other tables. She sat patiently waiting to be served. ”Here you go. Put some pineapple in it. Mother ate all the strawberries.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes and sipped her Sangria. ”You should have put them in the pitchers, not as an aside dear.”
”So, Simone, where are you from sweetie?” Joan asked, picking up her wine gla.s.s.
”New York.”
”Ah, I love New York, or did before I got married and had my monsters. How do you like Castle Rock?”
”It's lovely. Everyone is,” Simone smiled.
”Bulls.h.i.+t, honey, the place is boring as-”
”Joan,” Maryanne cut in. ”Simone is new. Let's not scare her off just yet.”
Joan rolled her eyes. ”That's right. Let's pretend. Fine, welcome, Simone! You'll love it here,” she winked. Simone chuckled and took a sip of the white wine mix, with the pineapples floating in the bottom. It was delicious. She'd never had Sangria before, but she could get used to them quick. Her eyes went to the set up. On each table were spiral notebooks, pencils, dice, and bells. Simone wasn't sure what this game meant, but she was certainly curious.
”Have you played before?” Bonnie asked, eyeing her suspiciously.